


Coffee, AM?

by bunsterjonez



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, F/M, Marvel Universe, Reader-Insert, coffee disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunsterjonez/pseuds/bunsterjonez
Summary: Possibly Part One of a trio, we'll see. I love Clint, ngl. More comics-Clint than MCU-Clint, a little fluffy, a bit of angst at the beginning. Challenge prompt was "Ugh. Mistletoe." Let me know if you like it! --BJ





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly Part One of a trio, we'll see. I love Clint, ngl. More comics-Clint than MCU-Clint, a little fluffy, a bit of angst at the beginning. Challenge prompt was "Ugh. Mistletoe." Let me know if you like it! --BJ

_Buzz Buzz. Buzz Buzz._

Stir. Groan. Snooze. Repeat.

Clint was not a morning person; a straight antithesis to the saying “the early bird gets the worm.” But everyone knew the name Hawkeye was more ceremonial than a descriptor of his character.

True, no one could dispute his talent as a marksman, and he always maintained he could see better from a distance… but that left him more than a little nearsighted when it came to more mundane things than Avenger work.

Bobbi had told him as much when she left. Natasha would hint at it, ever so subtly. If anyone else could understand having mountains of regrets to wade through, it was her. But she was stronger than him. In more ways than one. Besides, she had Bucky now.

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzz_

Louder groan. He’d almost forgotten Sam had asked him for help training new recruits at the compound this morning, which is why his alarm was going off at all. With a slightly harder slap on the off button than he intended, he dragged himself out of bed towards the kitchen. No way he’d function without coffee.

Too bad the coffee maker wouldn’t work again, prompting an even more despairing groan. He’d have to stop at the corner shop on the way to the Compound… and invoke Sam’s wrath by being late in the process.

Peeking out his window, he spied the beginnings of a snow flurry, sprinkling down onto the awakening New York streets below. Letting out a resigned sigh, he grabbed a scarf, along with the Stark-made hearing aid he’d left on the counter last night, before heading out into the inevitably incoming storm. If there was something Clint hated more than mornings, it was Christmas.

***

He wasn’t exactly a regular, but he’d been in there enough times due to his malfunctioning coffee machine to recognize the barista’s faces, from the handful of times they actually initiated small talk.

“Might be time to get a new one,” the kind-looking older woman at the cash register hinted, with a glance at the sales floor. “We got some new models in, just in time for the holidays.”

He declined, with a polite smile. “Then I’d have no excuse to come in here anymore,” he joked good-naturedly, but as usual, his humor stemmed from the annoying thought that had awoken him that morning.  _Tis the Season to be lonely._

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t usually alone, such was the life of an Avenger anyway. But he wasn’t looking forward to this Christmas at all, especially after Barney’s death.

Hill had suggested he stay at the Compound once or twice, a poor effort to make him feel included. Tony had gifted him his brand new hearing aid (after he’d blown it out during a mission gone awry). There was a fully equipped training room with state-of-the-art equipment and simulations set up for him and his skills… but all these things did was make him feel even more isolated from the rest of them. Somehow he’d managed to make himself a bystander, looking from afar as his colleagues lived their lives.  _If only Barney was still here…_

He grabbed his coffee and turned to leave, dark thoughts mingling with his caffeine-less morning stupor, when a gust of wind violently swung the door open, a flurry of snow hitting him in the face. His sharp instincts activated, Clint shot his hand out to hold the door before it hit a customer sitting behind it, but he wasn’t able to pay the same attention to the unnaturally large ornamental ball hanging from the door, which went flying and knocked the cup in his other hand straight onto the floor.

“ **Ugh. Mistletoe.** ” he groaned again, for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

“I’d be pissed at it too,” a gentle voice ringing with quiet laughter came from the figure slowly standing up from the seat behind the door, freezing him in place.

***

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, as soon as you heard the bang of the door, the thud of the cup, its contents splashing all around the carrier’s legs, and the pure disdain for the guilty mistletoe ornament.

Before you could stop yourself, you’d spoken to him, and from the way he stared, you wondered if you’d said the wrong thing. It wouldn’t be the first time… but it certainly was a first for you to initiate a conversation with an Avenger. Working the night shift for IT Security at the Compound didn’t allow for many chances at socialization.

You spied one of the coffee shop employees approaching to see what the commotion had been about, and you called out, shaking yourself out of your staring contest with Clint Barton, “Can we get some towels? We’ll take care of it.”

Grabbing some spare napkins from your table, you grabbed the mistletoe ornament dripping in coffee. Noticing Clint was still looking at you, you held it out. “Want to do the honors?” you said, nodding over to the trash can nearby.

He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s obviously a hazard. Wouldn’t want it to claim another innocent cup of coffee.”

He hesitated, looking from the ball, to you, to the clock above the door.

“It’ll make you feel better,” you wheedled awkwardly, already starting to feel stupid for even talking to him. You should have just minded your own business. Whatever possessed you to even strike up a conversation with him in the first place?  _Just take the damn thing already._

He finally made to grab the napkin-covered ornament from your outstretched hand, examining it for a second and looking at you curiously. Suddenly, without taking his eyes off you, he dunked the mistletoe into the trash can on the opposite side of the shop.

Your smile broadened, and you could swear his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly at your expression. “Nice shot.”

“Plenty of practice,” he shrugged.

***

You’d both been ushered out of the coffee shop after you’d insisted on buying him a brand new cup.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he’d mumbled, holding the door for you as you exited.

“Can’t have an Avenger miss out on his caffeine fix,” you said. “Who knows, I may be averting future ornamental disasters.”

Clint let out a laugh. It had been awhile since he’d let a genuine one out like that. “Cheers to my hero, then,” he raised his cup, and you “clinked” it with yours before taking a sip, your eyes scanning his face as he took a drink, a content sigh escaping his lips.

After a moment he turned back to you, as though realizing something. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t fully awake yet. I’m Clint.” he said, extending a gloved hand towards you.

“Yeah, I know,” you blurted out. “I mean – um, I’m Y/N” you stammered, shaking his hand. “I technically work for you.” His eyes widened, and you could spy a slight panic as he tried to place your face in his memory. “I mean, I work the night shift,” you said, trying to placate his anxiety, but somehow increasing your own. “Night IT manager. I’m usually in an office down in the basement, you wouldn’t – I just recognize you from the cameras.” You didn’t think eyebrows could go that far up on someone’s face. “Not that I actively look at you through the cameras, I’m not a creep or anything,” you were fully aware that your mouth was literally running away from you, but for some reason you were unable to stop yourself. “I just – I mean, well, you know, it’s my job, and sometimes – “ you felt your face now flushed in embarrassment.  _Quit while you’re ahead, Y/N_. 

“Anyway-nice-to-meet-you-later,” you mumbled in a rush, turning away, resolving to hole up in your apartment until your shift started, and never talk to another Avenger ever again.

Clint could only stand on his spot, watching your rapidly departing form slump away from him. He’d screwed up. Again. Just stand dumbfounded without a word while a nice, gorgeous, funny woman talked at him, instead of joining in the conversation.  _This is why you don’t have any friends, Clint._

A quick buzz from his pocket made him dig out his phone. 10 text messages from Sam cluttered his screen, the latest one visible: “WHERE THE HELL ARE U??!”

With a sigh, he walked away from the shop, similarly as miserable as you had looked when you’d walked away from him.

***

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The mantra continued to swirl around your thoughts all throughout the day, following you as you clocked in to work that night.

Your job wasn’t extremely taxing; it mostly entailed running diagnostics and making sure security protocols were functioning as Tony Stark intended. There weren’t that many people as  well-acquainted with his state-of-the-art technology as you were. His new FRIDAY program could, technically, run the whole of the Compound’s security on its own. But following his snafu with Ultron, Stark had been forced to compromise with SHIELD by training a limited number of certified human AI engineers to oversee and monitor FRIDAY’s daily operations at the Compound 24/7. You were one of five, and your lack of social relationships made you an ideal candidate for the overnight vacancy. Lucky you.

After relieving your day-shift counterpart and checking in remotely with your supervisor at SHIELD, you continued to further berate yourself internally for your embarrassing meeting with Clint Barton this morning. Seemed as though your status as the social pariah of New York would remain unchanged.

It wasn’t like you were incapable of making friends, you’d strike up conversations with people all the time. But it was just so hard to relate to anyone these days. Without any nearby family to keep in touch on the regular and next to no prospects in the romance department, there just wasn’t anything for you to chat about with others… especially during the holidays. It seemed as though everyone you talked to always had plans, events, gatherings you’d miss out on because of work. Your only standing appointment for the past three years had been the laundromat on the weekends and the coffee shop after your shift. And now it seemed like you’d need to find another morning spot to make a fool out of yourself at.

As if on queue, you spied some movement on one of the hangar bays; a quick system schedule check confirming that what you were seeing was indeed on the roster for tonight. A jet landing neatly, bay doors closing behind it, and a gaggle of Avengers returning form a missing, unloading equipment. But it was the last person walking off the jet that caught your eye. 

Clad in black tactical gear, a bow and arrow arsenal hung loosely from his shoulder, and keeping a significantly slower pace from the rest of the group, was Clint Barton. But instead of following the rest of the group into the lobby, he disappeared behind a staircase access door by himself.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him go off on his own.It always seemed to you that he never really sought after any of the other Avengers. The redhead, Black Widow, was the only one you’d ever seen in his company around the Compound, even getting him to laugh once in awhile. Just like he’d laughed with you that morning. His eyes crinkled warmly every time.  _Must be nice to have a friend._

Maybe that’s what had made you talk to him that morning. Apart from missions he frequented the Compound less and less, barely acknowledging the others, waving down invitations from agents and soldiers.  _Stupid._  Why would a superhero like him need a friend like you? 

You let your head fall with a thud onto your workstation. _Never again._

Just then, some movement from a rooftop camera on the East Side prompted a quick beep on your console. Probably a bird just obstructing the view, you thought to yourself. Raising your head, you turned toward the camera responsible for disturbing your self-wallowing.

Not a bird. But you couldn’t help the smile now creeping on your face at the handwritten sign propped up in front of the camera:   
  
 _Coffee, AM?_


	2. Part 2

“Take two?” 

You glanced up from your usual table at the familiar voice, trying to hide how your heart leapt in joy at the sound, though your brightening eyes were difficult to ignore. Clint chanced a small smile, before continuing, “I’m Clint, and my pants are coffee free today.” **  
**

“Congratulations Clint,” you humored him, extending your hand out at him, and the warmth spreading from his touch as he held it was more effective than the cup of coffee you’d been drinking. “I’m Y/N and, believe it or not, I can actually carry a conversation with another human being.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, sitting down across from you with a quiet grunt. “Any other hidden talents?”

“Not really, compared to an Avenger,” you joked. You liked hearing him laugh. It wasn’t forced, a genuine mirthful glow spreading across his face.

“Consider me intrigued,” he leaned his shoulders on the table, his eyes sparkling as he noticed the slight flush creeping on your cheeks. “I already know enough Avengers to last me a lifetime.”

***

“Maybe he’s a Skrull.”

Tony, Natasha, and Sam were standing in the hallway outside the kitchens, staring at Clint, who was whistling a melody to match the loud bass beats flowing from the loudspeakers, while making a disastrous attempt at what looked like breakfast. Fruits, jam, flour and egg shells – along with a few yolks – were scattered all over the counters, falling onto the floor, and discarded ingredients were practically overflowing from the trash can in the corner. But Clint didn’t seem to be bothered by the mess he’d created. The trio curiously observing him on the other side of the glass wall felt differently, however.

“A Skrull would at least  _try_ to blend in,” Nat shot down the suggestion, eyes following Clint’s shimmying around the counter as he plopped some chunky-looking batter onto the waffle iron. “This is… something else.”

“I didn’t think I hit him in the head  _that_ hard during training,” Sam’s frown turned into a quick wince as batter splattered onto the opposite side of the glass in front of him, the goop slowly dripping down to the floor.

“Isn’t he supposed to have better aim than that?,” Tony groaned, as he punched in commands on his wristwatch. “FRIDAY, assign Dum-E #5 to clean up after Barton’s mess. I’m gonna go get a latte… somewhere else.”

“Yeah, this is too disturbing for me to stick around either,” Sam added, before following Tony down the hall.

But Nat, who didn’t think she could ever be surprised about anything at this point, found herself raising her eyebrows so much they were in danger of disappearing off her face altogether, as Clint skidded to a stop right in front of her; a foam container in his hands with a beautifully arranged stack of waffles, along with berries, syrup and butter in tiny containers on the side.

“What do you think?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face, at the same time Dum-E zoomed into the kitchen, slipping slightly in batter slop and hitting the counter in the process.

Natasha couldn’t help but offer him an encouraging smile. “She’ll love them.”

***

You did love them. Enough to devour the whole thing almost as soon as he set the plate in front of you at the coffee shop, though not before you took a picture of them. It was  _A Moment_. You didn’t get to have many of those in your life, but they seemed to become more and more frequent while Clint was around. And you had started to get the feeling he was grasping on to the ones he shared with you as much as you wanted to hold on to them.

“No one’s ever made me waffles before,” you said, stuffing the last of them in your mouth and looking up at his delighted expression.

“They’re about all I can make,” Clint said, scratching the back of his neck. “When making breakfast is an option, that is.”

You could detect the beginnings of a frown; it normally happened whenever his Avenging life came up. Being one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes came with plenty of skeletons; you weren’t completely ignorant of what went on during their missions and had spotted the team come home bloodied and bruised more than once to get the gist. But these mornings, just you and him at your corner table… they were supposed to be free of that. A couple of hours where it wasn’t real; that darkness that dragged the soul and yanked as hard as it could to break it.

Quickly, you wiped your mouth and steered the subject elsewhere. “If you could have one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Oh that’s easy,” he said, his face switching shades as though a light had been switched on. “Pizza.”

“But what kind?” you pushed with a smile.

“Extra cheese.”

Clint could watch you laugh all day. He wished he could. But real life called him back to the Compound a few minutes later. 

Standing on the sidewalk outside, you looked down as he gave your hand a significantly tight squeeze. Looking back up to his blue eyes, you saw his grim expression softening instantly as you offered him a small smile in return. You didn’t want to leave either.

“You didn’t tell me what meal you’d have,” he said tilting his head towards you, his voice strangely raspy, as though fearing the answer.

But he needn’t have worried. Your smile broadening, you squeezed his hand in return and said, “I’d eat those waffles you made every day, if I could.”


End file.
